


Bloody Brilliant...

by 100KlicksAway



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Het if you squint, M/M, Short, Slash, based on canon but really not quite since doesn't relate to plot at all, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100KlicksAway/pseuds/100KlicksAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is in love with Sherlock, and Sherlock is oblivious to his obvious feelings. John is pretty close to heartbroken... until Sherlock changes John's mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Brilliant...

**Author's Note:**

> Forgot a minor detail and EimY pointed it out, so here's it fixed. Thank you!

_He’s beautiful and strong and brave and bloody brilliant…_ thought John as he looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock was standing before the victim, hands in his back pockets, tilted slightly back. John wanted to lean towards him and give him something, anything, he wasn’t quite sure what. John wasn’t sure why he felt the way he did, Sherlock was his best friend, his partner, but he was still envious. Envious of all the people who just might have a chance with Sherlock, a chance that he wasn’t sure he had or not.  
  
John looked down at the woman sprawled on the ground. She was flipped haphazardly to the side and had multiple stab wounds. Lestrade and the other officers were crowded around him and Sherlock, waiting for Sherlock to do his thing and pronounce absolute brilliance, waiting for Sherlock to tell them exactly what happened.  
  
Sherlock opened his mouth and… looked over at John. “What do you think happened?”  
  
John froze, unsure. He looked at the woman, trying to think. “Maybe… uhm, perhaps she was mugged?”  
  
Sherlock blinked slowly. John could tell that he was irritated. “Maybe she was mugged. Without me, though, you’d never know if she was or not. You all need to learn to depend on yourselves, not me. I’m not going to be around forever and even if I was, I certainly wouldn’t spend forever helping you idiots. John was correct, even though he was guessing in a fit of uncertainty and mild stupidity. This woman, Lana, was in fact mugged. You can tell by the location of the stab wounds and the order of her purse. This death was no premeditated murder. Thus, your suspect, who’s likely to still be on the streets, should be charged with no more than 2nd degree murder.”  
  
“How do you know she was mugged by her purse?” Lestrade asked, open mouthed.  
  
“Look at all these little bags,” Sherlock said, pinching one between to gloved fingertips. “If she went to the trouble of having all these little bags in her purse for organization, she’s obviously not going to leave her purse in such disarray. The mugger was rifling through her purse when he was interrupted and ran.”  
  
John couldn’t help but smile at Sherlock’s genius. On the walk back to Baker Street, they talked over the case and another that Sherlock was working on, and John couldn’t help but to think, _He’s beautiful and strong and brave and bloody brilliant…and he could be mine. ___  
  
********  
  
John was waiting for Sherlock to come back in. He had said that he was going out and that he’d be back within the hour, but it had been nearly three hours. John was worried. He knew that he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been in love with Sherlock for so long, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but to worry, and be possessive, and to wonder the entire time how Sherlock was so blind that he couldn’t see John’s ridiculous feelings towards him, and if he did see them, then why he didn’t notice or say something. The entire thing made John’s head hurt and all he wanted to do was just… grab Sherlock and sit him down and tell him everything. That, of course, was impossible, due to the nature of their friendship.  
  
John pulled their food out of the oven; he’d taken to cooking more recently and Sherlock appreciated it, so he figured why not. Well, no, not true. He figured he’d definitely do it, so as to get into Sherlock’s good graces so that Sherlock would fall in love with him, too. He already knew it would never happen, but a man could dream, right?  
  
He sat down at the table, letting out a heavy breath. It had been three and a half hours since Sherlock left, and John was beginning to be seriously worried. He didn’t know what to do at this point. John was just getting up, about to call Sherlock when the door slammed open and in he came… with his arm around a girl.  
  
John sat back, shocked. Sherlock had never before brought home women, who was she? Sherlock shortly answered his question. “John, this is my girlfriend Tabitha. Tabbi, this is my roommate and partner, John. Oh look, he made dinner!”  
John licked his lips and stood, walking to the kitchen. He brought it over to the table and set it down with trembling fingers. “Thank you very much, John. Can I call you Johnny?” Tabitha asked with a watermelon smile. John’s fingers tightened and he shook his head.  
  
“Just John. Nothing else.”  
  
The three sat around the table to eat and John struggled to eat the entire meal. His stomach churned and his heart pounded in his throat. Girlfriend? Sherlock didn’t do girlfriends… He didn’t do people. Tabitha must be very special to him… John hurt everywhere and was very seriously considering going to his room and quietly crying, but figured that Sherlock would find that weird and use his investigative skills.  
  
Instead, John sat through the meal, hands shaking, face white, feeling like he could barely breathe. He could only choke down a few bites of the meal before he stood and excused himself. “I’m not feeling well, it’d be better if I left. I’m going to go lay down, I think.”  
  
Sherlock looked up, surprised. Tabitha giggled and drew Sherlock into a lingering kiss and John let out a quiet strangled cry, backing away from the table. Sherlock’s eyes were boring into his the entire time and John retreated as quickly as he could.  
He stood in the shower, letting the spray hit him in the back and staring blankly at the white wall in front of him, the whole time thinking about his stupidity. _I was too close… too close to everything. To telling Sherlock how I feel about him, to letting him know at all, too close to him… I thought… I thought we could be. But I was wrong. He’s beautiful and strong and brave and bloody brilliant…and he will never be mine. ___  
*******  
  
John tiredly pulled the severed hand out of the freezer door and tossed it on the counter. Sherlock walked over. “Hey, leave that there. I need that.”  
  
“You need to wrap your evidence before you stick it where we eat our food, Sherlock. That’s disgusting.” John felt bad that he was being so impatient, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been getting very little sleep in the two weeks since Sherlock brought Tabitha over, and he hadn’t gotten any the night before because Sherlock had played his violin for hours.  
  
“Hey, what’s up with you? You’ve been horrible lately… I don’t understand it. You’ve been incredibly cranky and you’ve lost weight. What’s wrong with you?” Sherlock asked with an almost concerned tone. John was so shocked that he looked at Sherlock: he hadn’t looked at him in weeks. He hadn’t allowed himself to.  
  
The sight of Sherlock with a concerned expression moved John to tears and he let out a quiet sob. “It’s nothing, leave me alone!”  
  
John ran to his bedroom and slammed the door, only to be stopped by Sherlock throwing it open. John backed away from him, silent tears trailing down his face and Sherlock sighed. “Oh, John…”  
  
“Sod off, I’m not in the mood, Sherlock!”  
  
Sherlock walked slowly towards John rather than leaving him and when he was close enough, he reached out and pulled John into his arms. “Shh, don’t cry… John, shh…”  
  
John continued to sob, holding himself tense and stiff in Sherlock’s embrace. _It’s not real, it’s not real, it will never be real… ___Sherlock’s hand began to soothingly rub his back and he fell apart, limp and weak in Sherlock’s arms.  
  
“Please don’t cry, love… it’s breaking my heart,” Sherlock said quietly, intensely. John looked up at him, shocked. Sherlock smiled softly, heartbreakingly, and tipped John’s face up towards his, drawing him into a kiss.  
  
"What about _Tabitha ___," John whispered in a brokenly poisonous tone.  
  
After a moment, Sherlock broke it. “This is what you’ve been upset about, isn’t it? You thought…. You ridiculously foolish… I never cared for her. I had suspected that something was wrong with you, and I brought her over as a test. Then I knew that you felt, well, something, but I wasn't entirely sure what it was and , oh, _John,_ I love you, John.”  
  
John gasped quietly and Sherlock kissed him again. John couldn’t help but think, _He’s beautiful and strong and brave and bloody brilliant… and he’s mine. ___

Fin <3


End file.
